Planet of Love
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Earth's attempt to terraform Venus and Mars ended in 2047. If humanity had a future beyond their dying world, it would have to be in the 34 Tauri star cluster.


**Planet of Love**

Sitting in his office in Aerostat 4, Hal looked out the window to the clouds of Venus.

The clouds weren't like those on Earth – white, fluffy, interspaced in a sea of blue. These were thick, yellow, and composed of carbon dioxide. The aerostats were situated above them, but every so often the clouds would rise, and anyone working outside the aerostats had to get in quickly, lest they experience the joys of acid rain. Which, painful as that was, was a damn sight better than falling off, as a few unlucky bastards had over the years. No-one knew for sure what killed the poor souls first when that happened – poisoning, pressure, or the heat. Either way, the sounds of them dying remained the same. Either way, Venus killed anyone who ventured too far down.

"Hal."

Though on the other hand, he reflected, that might be a damn sight better than dying on Earth these days. Least if you died on Venus you got to enjoy an unworldly landscape. On Earth, people tended to die in the same dirt they were born in.

"Hal."

And that wasn't even touching on Mars, which, all things considered, was-

"Hal!"

He sighed and looked round in his chair. Standing in his office before him, a clipboard in her hands, was Seong. She held it before him, like an over-enthusiastic school student who wanted to prove to her parents that she'd got good grades on her report card.

"Hal, you need to sign this."

He grunted. "According to whom?"

"According to the people who attempted to fund the Venus and Martian terraforming projects. A.k.a. the people who sent you, me, and over two-hundred other people here. A.k.a. the people who pay you. A.k.a. the-"

He grabbed the clipboard and slammed it down on the desk. "The whole a.k.a. thing sounds stupid, you know that right?"

"What I know is that the sooner you sign this, the sooner we can catch a ride back to Earth."

"And then what?" Hal asked.

Seong shrugged, and Hal scowled. She knew, he knew she knew, and she knew that he knew. Even if much of the world didn't. Sometime, within the next month, it would be announced that terraforming efforts on Mars and Venus had failed. Both worlds were too inhospitable to be transformed into human-conducive environments within an adequate timeframe to save the human species, and there simply weren't enough resources to do it. Ergo, Plan B would be announced within a year. A global exodus to the 34 Tauri(2020) star cluster – a trip that would take over a century even with next-generation gravity drives. Privately, he didn't know what was more absurd – the notion that transporting the human race to a new star system was easier than saving their home, or the belief that the teeming masses of humanity would accept the plan at all. Because projections were that crafting a fleet of that size would take decades, would involve the requisitioning of all global infrastructure, and the tacit admission that no-one who left Earth would live long enough to see their new home. Not to mention that the planets and moons of said new home were only slightly more hospitable than the second and fourth planet of the Sol system.

"Hal."

He looked up at Seong. She tapped the notepad again.

"Just sign it," she said, pleading. "You gave it your best shot, and you failed. So what? Least you're still alive."

He grunted. Being alive was a pretty low bar, all things considered.

"Hal…"

But of course, his whole life had involved ducking under low bars. So, with a heavy heart, he signed the document and handed it back to his co-administrator. Seong took it, not needing to tell him that it would be forwarded on to Earth via tightbeam. That it would take her five minutes to walk from his office to the aerostat's comms centre, one minute to fire up the laser transmitter, and it would take four minutes for his signature to travel across the void of space from Venus to Earth. And in doing so, confirm that the Venusian aerostats would begin decommissioning, with all staff ready to be transferred back to Earth to begin work on the Exodus Project.

"Anything else?" he murmured.

"No."

"Fine. Then go do your thing."

He watched as Seong went to say something, then thought better of it, and walked out. Not sparing a moment, he got off his chair and looked out the window. The clouds of Venus looked back at him. Mocking him. Reminding him of his failure. Because even if Earth's looming collapse was the result of centuries of bad decisions, even if his inability to terraform Venus was due to lack of resources (and resources split between it and Mars), he was the one who'd been appointed to lead the project. If mankind had a future ahead of it, his name would be the one to go down in history as the person who'd been here when the trigger had been pulled. He was the first one to arrive at Venus, and, he swore to himself, the last one to leave.

_Could have had a home here, _he reflected. _Maybe._

It wasn't nearly as farfetched an idea as it had been even less than two decades ago. Current evidence pointed to the idea that Venus might have had liquid water up to 700 million years ago. Before the sun got brighter, before its seas had boiled away, cloaking the planet in a dense cloud cover, and causing its plates to grind to a halt with the lack of lubrication. A billion years from now, Earth would have the same fate. Maybe, if Plan B actually succeeded, humanity could look back on their homeworld and see it turn into an even greater Hell than the one they'd reduced it to.

Still, he knew the truth. Venus, despite its namesake, wasn't the planet of love.

And love couldn't save the universe.

* * *

_A/N_

_So, awhile ago there was a series of articles that claimed that Venus might have had liquid water on its surface up to less than a billion years ago. Ergo, wrote this. When I went to check stuff however, it was revealed that the articles had already been challenged, that Venus might have been covered with lava rather than water. Kept it as it is, but, yeah._

_Also, fun fact that dawned on me when researching canon - 2030 is the date in-universe when it becomes official that Earth is pretty much screwed. If that year sounds familiar to you, then good, you've paid attention to the climate change issue. I mean, I'm not saying that _Firefly _predicted the future, but if the 'Verse is discovered next year, then, well..._


End file.
